At Peace
by lanatic
Summary: The story of how Bella came to lose her life. A series of moments, told from her husband and sisters point of view. Talks candidly about death, beware.


**The Black Balloon Contest**

**Title: **At Peace

**Your pen name: **Lanatic

**Characters: **Edward, Bella.(minor Alice & Carlisle involvement)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own twilight, nor the poem I am always with you, or do not stand by my grave and weep, by Mary Elizabeth Frye, I'm just using that stuff :)

**AN:** This is in memory of my aunty, Cathy, who died on the 14th September 2009. Most of the things in this story actually happened. The water on Bella's head? Yeah my mum did that to my aunty. Where Edward and Bella met is based on Cold Knap Lake, by Gillian Clarke. Review?

When I am gone, release me, let me go.

I have so many things to see and do,  
You mustn't tie yourself to me with too many tears,

But be thankful we had so many good years.

I gave you my love, and you can only guess  
How much you've given me in happiness.

I thank you for the love that you have shown,  
But now it is time I traveled on alone.

So grieve for me a while, if grieve you must  
Then let your grief be comforted by trust  
That it is only for a while that we must part,  
So treasure the memories within your heart.

I won't be far away for life goes on.

And if you need me, call and I will come.

Though you can't see or touch me, I will be near  
And if you listen with your heart, you'll hear  
All my love around you soft and clear

And then, when you come this way alone,  
I'll greet you with a smile and a "Welcome Home".

***** February 6****th**** 1990**

"What's wrong?" The little girl asked as she sat next to me on the pier. I stopped crying because I didn't want to look like a baby. She was pretty.

"Nothing," I lied, crossing my arms over my knees.

"Well you look really sad."

"I'm not."

"Hey! Look, there's frogspawn in there!" She pointed to the jelly like stuff in the pond.

"It looks disgusting," I said, because it did.

"Yeah but there's gotta be little tadpoles growing inside!" her little hands clapped and I laughed at how excited she was.

"But why would you want to live in this world?"

She frowned, "because, _sometimes _it's sunny… and uhm…"

"See, there aren't any good reasons." I sighed and hugged my knees tighter.

"Whatever. I dare you to touch it."

"No way, never, it looks horrible!"

"Ah, you're such a wuss!"

"Am not, look, I'll touch it, see," I said as I tried to look like it wasn't the grossest thing ever and reached down to brush my hand against the horrible jelly stuff that looked like dead eyes, staring up at me.

My hands brushed water instead of the mush I thought it would touch, so I reached down farther, but I lost my balance and tumbled into the water. It was freezing cold, and my legs couldn't touch the bottom.

"Hey!" Cried the girl, as I started to splash, terrified about what was lurking in the water. There might even be sharks in her. "Grab my hand," she reached out, but I couldn't reach. I desperately tried to kick my legs, but they were tangled in something. My head fell under the water, and I could no longer see the pretty girl, all I could do was scrunch my eyes shut in the dark green pond and hope that someone would come and save me. My arms were useless at my sides as they were weighed down by my heavy clothes.

My lungs were burning, like they were on fire, and my body wanted to breath even though I told it that I'd only be breathing water.

People couldn't breath water, did it not understand? It felt like my body was trying to kill me as I finally opened my mouth and pulled in the water it seemed to so desperately want. It tasted horrible and my lungs protested violently by making me retch. It was the most horrible sensation, laying there at the bottom of the pond, tangled in weeds, seeing creatures flit around you, grotesque, monsterish creatures, and all I was doing was hoping to die, or pass out, or both, because I didn't even really like this world. I hoped my dad felt sad when he buried me, because that'd be payback for every little thing. Payback for his own, horrible life, that I'd get to escape before him. I was only ten.

The next sensation I felt was water forcing its way out of me, and my body was so cold. It felt like it had just been restarted, like I was a car engine. I felt sick and retched up more water, there was the pretty girl by my side, "Are you alright? I'm so, so, so, sorry!" She was wet, like she'd tried to save me and I tried to move, but there was nothing left in my body, it felt empty.

"Edward? Edward!" A swat around my head told me it was my father. "You idiot! You could have died!" Another hit. "And who are you? What did you do to him?" He turned to the girl, and I wanted to raise a hand to protect her, but my body didn't move.

"I'm Bella, sir," she said shyly, stepping away from him. She turned and ran away, saying she was sorry over her shoulder.

Another hit and my head hit the ground, hard, and my body gave up again.

***** ****August 13****th**** 2000**

She was resplendent in white lace, her grandmother's dress, flowing from her shoulders like it was made just for her. She was stepping towards me, steps strong and willful and full of our purpose.

Her eyes were glittering and soft, and her face was not alight with the gaze of the many jealous onlookers, for, who could not want her? But it didn't bother me because she was mine and she wouldn't ever walk away.

Her small hand was in mine and she was staring into my eyes.

"I do," she whispered, loud words unnecessary. We were glowing as we stepped away from the congregation, parents and friends wishing well and telling Bella how beautiful she was, how fetching I looked.

We fled the scene in style, a handsome car for a handsome pair.

She was fine, and she was mine forever.

***** ****September 10****th****, 2009**

"Oh, Bella, we weren't expecting you!" I bustled, feeling embarrassed that my own sister was going to see my house in this state, and then feeling embarrassed that I was caring. The kids were running wild.

Her soft face looked worn, but there was that sad smile in place. I don't remember the last time she smiled like she meant it.

A loud banging came from upstairs as Jackson ran to see who had rung the bell. "Aunty Bella!" Jackson shouted as he launched himself at her from the top of the stairs, just as she maneuvered herself through the door. Bella halfheartedly caught him. Her face softening and she was going to-

And then the moment was gone, the fleeting happiness chased off as soon as she remembered who she was now.

His little toothy grin was gone when he saw that his aunty Bella still wasn't right, and that she didn't have anything for him, and then he was gone, leaving me feeling awkward with my big sister.

"You want some tea? Coffee?" we stepped through to the kitchen and she still hadn't uttered a word. It was usual now, no more exuberance or shy confidence. Her eyes were flat and lifeless and the spark that had been gone for so long did not reappear, as much as we wished it would.

"I wanted to see you," she all but whispered, her lovely voice flat, even though I could tell she wanted to be happy. I frowned, worried. Edward wouldn't let her out of his sight, not like this. He wouldn't let her go.

"Does Edward know you're here?" She nodded silently, her hand reaching for the tea I'd made her, because she didn't need to speak, I knew.

Bella only spoke when she had to. She was trying to look happy, trying to play the part, but the act was too hard and her shoulders couldn't hold it up.

"Yep, I told him I was coming to see you, Ali." Her cheer was painfully fake, and it was as if she was trying to remove my heart without anaesthetic when she pretended. Why had he let her leave? He knew that she shouldn't be alone. I pulled out a chair for her and for me at the table, and we sat down with our mugs and we talked, I talked. I couldn't bear to look at her, I couldn't see what she'd become. It was the eyes, they scared me the most. Her eyes had gone from the beautiful deep brown, like looking into infinite pools, her compassion, intelligence… youth, life, shown through the expressive orbs, they were now flat oceans, dim but vast and empty. Lonely.

She wasn't alone. I didn't want her to feel alone, I wanted to comfort her and make it better, but I didn't know how because she was my big sister, and she was meant to help me. But I had to hold her up, pick her up from the rubble and hold her and take her back to that horrible place. Visit her there, and then when she was 'better' we brought her home and we loved her, but she just wasn't living anymore.

***** 22****nd**** September 2000**

"Edward…" Her doe eyes were wide and smiling. "I'm pregnant!" her eyes were no longer lit with tears of sadness, they were lit with happiness and joy.

I swirled her around me into a kiss. She was pregnant.

"Bella, I love you." I whispered, as I sunk to my knees and kissed her flat belly through her thin white shirt. She was resplendent, glowing, in her plain clothes, beauty enveloped in a nightshirt.

She was carrying my child.

I lifted the shirt, and she tangled her hands into my hair. I kissed her beautiful belly, imagining the life growing inside… kissing it, caressing every inch of the perfect skin, and the perfect little bundle growing inside.

I stood to kiss her, and suddenly she was changed. Her face was red and contorted in uncharacteristic rage; her mouth was twisted as she spat her words at me, scolding me. "Why are you so happy? What have you done to me!" she cried, her eyes tearful and hating.

I didn't know what to do, what to say to make it better. She turned and ran, through the hallway and out the front door, before I could even call her back, she was gone, bare foot and barely clothed.

And I almost didn't care that she was gone from my door, the loathing I felt for her hatred of _our child_ utterly repugnant in my own body, and it hurt to hate her for this reaction, but I wanted to tell her that it was our baby, how could she hate it? Because this wasn't Bella. This was wrong. Bella was lovely and her face couldn't form such ugly emotions, because she was Bella and she was beautiful and strong and lovely, and she could never be ugly… but in that one moment, she was. She was violent and wrong in her body, she wasn't even Bella anymore. Because, my Bella wanted a little boy called David, and a little girl called Sapphire, and the little boy would look like me with Bella's eyes, and the little girl would have curly bronze hair, like her daddy, but Bella's face and tiny hands. They would be beautiful together and we would love them, and support them, and let them cry on our shoulders when their first love broke their heart.

We would be their parents, and we would love them.

But this Bella… didn't want this baby, this Sapphire or David. She wasn't my Bella now.

I didn't go and find her. I worried, and bit my nails, but I didn't look for her. She was back, thirty minutes later, her nose pink from the cold, and her beauty returned.

She acted like nothing happened.

"Do you want to find out its gender?" She asked as she stepped into the warm home, her feet muddy and her hair windswept and messy.

I said nothing, just stood aside as she passed me, walked upstairs and had a shower.

And I almost thought I imagined it, because her beauty was back and she loved the baby again.

***** February, 2001**

I held her hand as we stepped into the familiar room, the familiar small Asian woman greeting us warmly.

Our baby was healthy, happy and content in its mother's belly, safe there now that Bella was back. We hadn't uttered a word about the incident, left it behind like it wasn't niggling and pulling at the loose strands of my hair, tugging my hand away from hers at moments like these, straining our love even though we never said a word.

But I couldn't ever leave her, I loved her, loved the baby.

"Congratulations, it's a girl," the little Asian woman announced after seconds of indecision. I glanced at Bella's excited face, the tears in her eyes again.

"Sapphire," I whispered as I gave her a kiss on the cheek, longing to touch her stomach, but not wanting to interfere with the nurse. I stared at the screen, the little bean almost big on there, instead of the little thing we'd been used to seeing. I could see her little body, definite and alive.

She'd felt her first little kick a few weeks ago, and I'd pressed my hand to her slightly swollen belly hoping to feel our little one alive.

I'd felt the barely there movement later on, elated and ecstatic, saying hello to our own little precious stone for the first time – but she was living and breathing and kicking, she was no longer just a dream. She was ours and she was real.

***** November 26****th****, 2009**

Today, she could barely get out of bed. Barely live. I helped her up, but she wouldn't get out of bed. Her eyes were dead.

I couldn't help her… didn't know what to say. So I curled up in the white sheets with her, holding her unresponsive form in my arms tightly, not wanting to let her slip away.

I left her later, to cradle David as he cried, and watch Sapphire as she coloured in her pretty pictures, of flowers and of mummy how she used to be.

I was glad that Sapphire knew her when she was happy. I hoped that she'd remember, and forget the bad times.

Forget that I had to lock the upstairs windows of the house, not let her out of my sight.

She could barely hold onto herself, let alone two children. Let alone her little sister who needed her, who was having her second child, also and hurting and Bella just couldn't be there. She couldn't support another when she couldn't even support herself.

Her hair was straggly and limp, and I laid David down next to her. She turned away, onto the other side of the bed. Her eyes were hollow. Her skin was sallow and unhealthy looking.

I retrieved David, rocked him to sleep as his eyes searched mine frantically, his little body knowing that his mother was what he needed.

He cried in the night, and I didn't even look to Bella for assistance, I got up and held him. I got his bottle and quieted him. He looked at the prone form lying on the far left side of the bed, as far from her family as possible, and I thought that he was too clever for a six month old baby. He couldn't even crawl yet he knew that his mummy was sick.

My heart ached for her, but for my children and myself more.

Was that selfish? Because I'd not touched her in so long, it was like she didn't love me anymore.

I loved her so much.

***** July 28****th**** 2001**

"Just one more push Bella! That's it!" The midwife encouraged as I held her hand, dying to see our little one for the first time, but I couldn't let go of her hand. I heard the high pitched voice, crying out, and then I saw our little one for the first time, and I knew that I would be the best dad, for her and for Bella. I loved her from conception, and she was so beautiful. The midwife gave the ok, and handed Bella our baby, swathed in a fluffy white towel. Her eyes were closed and her lips were thin and pink, like her skin, tinged red, but it would be pale alabaster, like Bella.

Bella was crying, as she handed me our little girl, fragile and soft in our arms.

The next day she was ours to keep as we took her home for the first time.

Bella was a natural, holding little Sapphire just right, holding our baby in her loving arms. We arrived home, the rare warm light filtering through the trees to reach the windows. We laid Sapphire down in her cot to sleep peacefully, her soft breaths coming out into little huffs of air. I smiled down at her; I wanted to see her eyes, how long would it take for her to see the world?

I found Bella staring at herself in the mirror. Her shirt was raised and her stomach was showing, her empty belly still pale and flat, with barely any sign that she'd just had a child, a gorgeous baby girl who was asleep upstairs.

"Look what she did to me…" she whispered, her face a mask of fear.

"You're beautiful, baby," I told her, my hands wrapped around her slim figure and I captured her eyesight in the mirror. She flinched from my hands, her face turned into a mask. Disgusted and hating.

Who was this person, back again? This was the wrong person. This was not my Bella, tenderly holding our newborn child just minutes before.

"Fucking let go of me, don't touch me Edward! It's your fault. Look what your baby did to me!" She screamed, her tiny hands flinging my own away from her, like a magnet repelling instead of attracting. Wrong.

The horrible face that had haunted my memories was back, ruining Bella's beauty and turning it into hate.

Hate didn't suit Bella. And I wanted to tell her to be quiet, that she'd wake the baby, but I didn't. She screamed and told me it was my fault.

It was like she didn't love us.

I fled the room, too afraid of my own wife to look into her mahogany eyes, the flat lifeless prisons that they were in that moment, like bars caging the wrong Bella in.

I ran upstairs and comforted our crying daughter, awakened by her mothers hatred.

She was gone when Sapphire was asleep. She had disappeared, the car gone from the driveway and the warmth missing from the house, empty with just one and a half residents.

Quiet and still. I sat and waited, my hands curling and my head knowing something wasn't right. Sapphire slept on, into dark and then she awoke and I fed her from the bottle.

She cried still and I held our new baby to myself, scared that I was doing something wrong. How could she leave us now?

Just as Sapphire curled up, her little hands softening their grip on my straggly hair, the doorbell rang. I let out a relieved sigh and laid sapphire down, scared what mood Bella would be in.

The worry returned when I saw the silhouette of a man in the doorway. The man swathed in black like he'd stepped from the darkness.

"Mr. Cullen?" asked the police officer as I answered the door. I was afraid now. "I have some bad news for you, would it be alright if I stepped inside?" I nodded dumbly as the old policeman stepped inside, his hat under his arm.

It had to be a sign of respect; the darkness had relinquished this man to tell me of my wife. Was she there? In the dark, alone? Was she dead?

"Please sit down, Mr. Cullen." I followed his command, conscious of the sleeping baby upstairs and the absence of Bella's warm presence at my side.

My body felt numb and I couldn't look at the mans face, couldn't even describe it to even myself. He was the messenger of bad news, the policeman come to tell me that... My beautiful wife was dead.

Or hurt, or missing... Where was she? Why wasn't she here? I didn't understand… suddenly nothing made sense. Not my life, or my body or the baby lying upstairs, motherless.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you're wife has had a… accident."

Oh my god. She was dead, and all I had were these memories of her hatred, of her wrongness in my head.

Our wedding day… white lace, circled my mind. The beauty was out of reach, the memories far removed from my last point of reference.

She was gone forever.

*****7****th**** June 1998**

"Oh my god Rose, get the water, get the water!" I called quietly. I was tying a hairbrush to a string as I took a peek outside the window, making sure nobody was watching what was happening.

"You ready, Alice?" Rose asked as we opened up the window. I nodded enthusiastically, trying impossibly not to laugh.

I lowered the string slowly and swung it so it tapped on the window. I did it again, more loudly and then quickly retracted it. A head poked out of the window, then looked up straight at me.

"Go, Rose!" I nudged her, poking her skinny waist.

The bucketload of water fell a whole story down and hit Bella in her pretty face.

Shit.

That was stupid.

Her head quickly ducked back inside the window, her hair soaking wet as the people around fell to the ground laughing, or supported themselves against one another.

I just made a laughing stock out of my quiet sister.

She didn't talk to me for three days after that. I cleaned the whole house after the party, mum was away. We'd even drawn a map of the placement of all the little trinkets she had.

Bella never got over… that. She never spoke much. It wasn't a funny joke to me, yet everyone found it funny.

They thought that undermining her fragile confidence was funny.

I thought it would be funny before I saw her surprised face. Then her sad face. Then the down turned eyes, like she wasn't good enough to be in my presence.

***** August ****20****th**** 2001**

We passed the anniversary of our wedding in hospital. Alice had visited, her eyes lit with pain.

Bella had asked for her father, but what could I say? She was delirious and in pain after falling three stories.

That day, she'd thrown herself from the tallest building she could find.

She'd tried to commit _suicide. _The word wasn't meant for Bella, she wasn't meant to kill herself. She was meant to live, vital and forever by my side.

I loved her, so much. I couldn't bear to lose her, the pain made me angry at myself, at Bella, but I couldn't blame her. It wasn't her fault. But I couldn't tell her, because it made her angry, and her fragile emotional state couldn't handle the pain and the anger.

She was no longer afforded a space with normal people. They moved her to the psychiatric ward for diagnosis.

Two days after that, there was a bottle of Stelazine on the table, Isabella Cullen written across the prescription like it was supposed to belong.

"I want dad." She called again, as I cradled Sapphire in my arms, facing away.

"He's busy right now baby," I told her as I turned towards her, her body curled up on the bed. She looked so small, like a child. My voice was strained with the lie.

"But Edward I just talked to him, how can he be busy! Edward, I just talked to him!" her eyes were frantic as she told me her truth. There were tears, like I was lying to her, and then she was crying, her little body shaking, and then Sapphire was crying, and I was crying too, because I couldn't handle these two people I loved, I couldn't hold one while I held the other.

I couldn't ask my wife to hold our baby. I couldn't leave her alone in this room.

"Edward, where is my dad?" she asked again, and I still couldn't answer because I knew where he was.

***** 11****th**** March 2000**

The sky was dark as we said goodbye to Charlie, the wind, the rain and the clouds paying their respects, the sun in mourning.

There were a thousand black bodies packed into forks' only church hall, and it was a solemn and dark mood that had settled along with the weather.

I carried the wooden case on my shoulders and stared towards the front, aware that I was carrying this man to his final resting place.

It's a heavy burden, that, and the responsibility weighed down on my shoulders as heavy as the treasured box.

It was a movement I'd not practiced before. I was watched from all sides, but all eyes were filled with sorrow, all faces sorry, sad, teary.

Every kind of person had gathered under this roof, the dirt Charlie had put away, paying their respects for a gentle man, his family and his friends, most of the La Push reservation filled one half of the church, their large, dark bodies pressed together tightly.

Bella was standing at the front, staring with glassy eyes. Her mahogany locks were down and free, and her face was without adornment. Simple black was all she wore, nothing more.

"Do not stand at my grave and weep,  
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.  
I am the diamond glint on snow.  
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.  
I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you wake in the morning hush,  
I am the swift, uplifting rush  
Of quiet birds in circling flight.  
I am the soft starlight at night.

Do not stand at my grave and weep.  
I am not there, I do not sleep.  
(Do not stand at my grave and cry.  
I am not there, I did not die!)

This poem always strikes me as something that personifies Charlie and his personality. He was subtle like the wind, the afterglow of snow and the warm autumn rain. He'd want us to remember him with happiness, not sorrow. Although, that does not mean we can. For I cannot forget that a piece of my heart died, the minute his stopped beating." She searched the crowd, eyes resting on familiar faces, "There are few people in the world who I share this part of me with, but I'm grateful he was one of them, and I'm glad that he took something of mine to his grave with him." A sigh escaped her lips, "I hope you're at peace now, daddy." Her voice was small and hopeful, but her eyes were tearful. A kiss flew from her lips, and Charlie surely caught it, somewhere far away, for there was a smile that twinkled on her lips as she returned to my arms, tucked safe into them, safe and loved.

Her tears didn't matter now, because she'd made her peace, and her tears were for what she'd lost, not in sadness.

A little piece of her died that day, the peace never grew back, it got bigger, and the black hole cracked, and the shards sliced at the bits left, and splintered her soul until she was broken.

***** 14****th**** September 2008**

A sob burst from my chest as I dropped the phone, unable to even comprehend what I'd heard.

Edward barely been able to speak, get the words out at her final success. Was this what she wanted? I felt anger and pity and this horrible ache rip through my chest. I wish I'd been there for her, because now my sister was dead at her own hands. My hands gripped at my shirt, pulling it away to hold onto my chest, hoping it would somehow force the pain out of my body. It was incomprehensible, that I'd never see her face again.

It was horrible to think of her body, smashed into a thousand pieces at the impact. Did it hurt? Or was she dead straight away? This morbid curiosity filled my mind, as I thought above the horrific feeling of guilt. What did she look like on the platform, amongst the commuters, was she at peace with her decision? Or at the last minute, did she wish she could take back that leap?

I wanted to hear her voice again now, my big sister, I wanted her back. I felt this horrible guilt bubble up like a fountain, because I'd never needed nor wanted her in my life, until she became sick, and never like this until that moment when Edward had told me what she'd done to herself.

There had been attempts before, but it had always felt like she would never succeed. It always seemed like she was the person who wouldn't succeed at doing much, always be good but never the best.

But she'd finally succeeded in this, this final act. She'd taken the leap – quite literally, not realising what it was doing to us. Did she even think about that? Was she too far gone to care that she would kill Edward as much as herself in that moment?

Jasper came to me then and held me to his warm chest as I held him, too, treasuring the fact that he was here, because Edward had nobody right now. I was so lucky, and I felt selfish for feeling that when Edward was at home with David and Sapphire, with nobody to hold him. I was so lucky that it wasn't Jasper, that he was fine and safe and alive and not laying in a coffin, waiting to be buried. I'd lost my sister, but I was going to treasure him and Jackson so much more now that I knew how much this hurt, it was worse than even losing dad, because Bella was sick. That made it worse, to know that if this thing… this other person, because it wasn't Bella had taken control of her frail body and contorted her personality so much that she was no longer herself.

She'd still be here if 'they' hadn't been after her.

***** 22****nd**** August 2001**

"Now, Edward, it's important that you understand these implications," my father said as Sapphire lay asleep next to us. He was holding my hand, like I was just any other patient. His eyes were empathetic and detached, like he hadn't known Bella her whole life. "I'm going to be blunt and tell you the statistics,"

I nodded dumbly.

"Around one in three people with Schizophrenia recover fully. Now, Bella has very severe symptoms, this paired with her postpartum depression, could be very dangerous." Staring at him, I noticed, not for the first time that I didn't like my father very much. Why did he have to say it like this? Bella could be that one, why was he being so negative? If we wanted it enough it would happen. Bella would get better and everything would be normal again. But the hope wasn't there, the ring of honesty didn't sound in my thoughts because I knew that there was something seriously wrong with my Bella, something so etched into her, that giving her medicine and therapy wouldn't cure. "There are several treatments we can consider, namely medication and therapy, but if her illness becomes worse, there is one other option," I sat and waited for him to continue, the hope that something could save Bella looming, "Electroconvulsive therapy." and that hope disappeared at these two words, replaced with shock, and the disgust that my own _father _would suggest something that would _hurt _her. How could anyone pump an electric current through somebody's head and expect them to come out the same? It was a disgusting, thoroughly repulsive thought. I shook my head, trying to dislodge the image of Bella, lost and confused about her own life. "And for your children, Edward, 13 of 100 children with parents suffering from Schizophrenia will have it too."

I shook my head again, unable to imagine our perfect little girl sick like her mother. "No, Sapphire will be fine."

"Edward, I'm just telling you the facts." He stated this like it was another fact, his flat emotionless voice enraging. His sons life – _my_ life was burning in front of him, and he was fanning the flames. The woman who I loved was sick, incurably ill, and all he could do was pull facts from his useless, emotionless brain.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up dad, do you even care?" I shouted at him, rage colouring my vision red, he didn't even flinch as I stood to leave.

But I couldn't, I was tethered there by my little girl. It was strange, that once I'd been so free, but now I was tied down to wherever she was. Before I could have just gone and left, escaped the infuriating mans company, but now I was stranded in this room, practically alone with a man that didn't care about me or my family's feelings. How could we be cut from the same cloth? I was so different, maybe we were made to repel. He just… made me sick. I couldn't stand his very presence.

He stood, like I was the one who'd done something wrong, and said, "I'll be back when you're in control of yourself," his icy tone freezing me, but my red hot rage was back and my arm swung back and connected with his stupid, perfect jaw. I heard a satisfying crunch as I came into contact, practically feeling the rage disappear on contact, like it transferred into him.

And the fear that I'd known as a child replaced the gap the rage had left. He pushed me into the corner, his hands rough upon me, and I pushed back, dusting his hands off like the piece of shit he was. I was ten years old again.

But I was strong now, he couldn't hurt me, couldn't break my bones like he seemed to enjoy, along with breaking my spirit.

But I was strong now, I repeated to myself, like a mantra in my head as he pushed me to the floor, his hands pulling and pushing, impact and rage pounded into my skin as I took every hit he gave me.

"You are an insolent little son of a bitch!" He shouted. He stood and kicked me, and the pain caused my back to arch as his expensive Italian shoes connected with my ribcage.

Tears leaked from my eyes, and I stared above me, trying to hide my pain from him, because seeing that would only make him feel better about his own, pitiful soul.

He bent down to my level, where I was laying on the floor, my head feeling slippery and warm on the linoleum floor, the tang of salt and copper and hospital invading my nostrils. There was blood coming from somewhere, from me? I hoped it was from him. He fisted a hand into my hair and pulled my head up to his. God, the only thing that kept me from shouting out was my mantra, pulsing through my mind like my frantic heartbeat, the adrenaline dulling it, but not making it better.

I stared up at his ugly, twisted face and saw nothing of myself in it. He was disgusting. And I was glad that this was some form of closure for me, this last hit. At least maybe he wouldn't hit mum tonight.

"You fucking deserve this burden, you and your _stupid _wife deserve this, you hear me?" He sneered, like he talked only truth and then stood up, swivelled on his fancy shoes and left the room.

***** April 27****th**** 2007**

"Do you still find me attractive?" She asked sadly as she stared into the mirror, a look of disgust on her face as she watched herself sway. Her tablets had made her gain weight, but she was still beautiful, her pale skin was flawless still, not a mark on it, except for the mole on her –

That mole was a secret only I had seen. I grinned at her, hoping to lift her mood with my truth, because today wasn't that bad, it was a good day and she had to know how attractive I found her, the sweet love we'd made only the night before testament to that.

"Of course, I do, baby, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever laid my eyes upon." I reached around her and held her to me; the mood was not tense, but lightened by her smile and my words.

"Really?" She said through her big smile.

"How could you ever question that? We've been married for nearly seven years baby."

"Mmm, seven years, it's gone by in a flash, hasn't it?" My smile didn't even falter.

"It's because I love you so much," I lied as I nuzzled into her neck. It wasn't that I didn't love her, it was that it had been so long, the bad days dragged and the good days flew away as they passed fleetingly. I closed my eyes, breathing in deeply and pressing my hands into her hips.

"You know I'm not taking my pill?"

"What?" My eyes flickered open in alarm and fear.

"You don't want to have another baby?" She asked, her eyes, previously lit with happiness now clouded over, like the sun had gone in. I hurriedly made to retract my statement.

"Of course I do, Bella, but are you sure?" I kissed her neck again, trying to make things better desperately.

"I want to try and be… better this time," she said quietly, "will it make it better?" she was watching me in the mirror as I exhaled against her pale neck.

"Make what better?" I was used to the cryptic messages, the use of them, because she didn't know who was after her, but she knew too much.

"The pain, it hurts that I wasn't a good mother to S-saph…" She attempted to say the name and I sighed again, it wasn't exasperation, it was sadness.

"Sapphire, love."

"Yeah…" she sighed back.

***** 14th September, 2009.**

I read the paper with disinterest, every colour muted to grey now that she was gone. She was fine, just days before, visiting with Alice, and I'd thought… I'd thought she'd be alright to go out on her own for one walk.

I was totally lost. Nothing made sense anymore, I'd called Alice, let her know. I wanted to visit the place she'd died, see where she lost her life.

I wanted to know if she thought about me before she went, before she left me.

I was alone, alone holding our children as I explained to them, telling them that their mummy wouldn't come back. David was gurgling and playing with my shirt, I couldn't stand the contact, couldn't stand him touching so close to the raw hole ripped into my chest. Sapphire didn't understand.

"Baby, mummy's gone to heaven, you know where that is, don't you?" She nodded and pointed to the sky.

"How did she get there?"

I couldn't look into her eyes. Bella's eyes, sweet brown eyes, it wasn't a comfort, she was an embodiment of Bella left behind for me. It would help me later on, but I couldn't… exist without her. Even if she had been almost dead sometimes, so comatose she couldn't even move, she was still breathing, vital, alive and whole.

Now, I couldn't even imagine what her broken body would look like, I didn't want to imagine it. Would she have died straight away? Or did it hurt? I hoped it didn't, that she was finally at peace after all her pain.

I was comforted by the thought that maybe she was, but what if it didn't? I couldn't stand her to be hurting in her last moments. And what were they like? Her last breaths on this earth? I could see in my mind, perfectly imagine the outfit she wore as she stepped out of the door, imagine the look on her face and the feelings inside. She'd be manic. She had shown me that part of her self so many times, the part capable of harming her beautiful self. Her eyes would be flickering, paranoid, looking out for _them. _She'd be so scared. But so exhilaratingly free in that moment, the anticipation of the deed that had been put off for so long.

I retched. I hoped she was happy, at least.

The phone rang, and rang and I put David to bed, the normality comforting. What would I do if he woke up in the night? Woke to find his mother not there? He hated it when she wasn't. He loved her, even if he was only a little young thing.

My baby boy wouldn't remember her when he was grown, he'd see the pictures of her happy. At least he wouldn't remember the bad times.

But he'd know that she was so sad, she decided to take herself away from us.

Could I have stopped it? Would I have been able to stop what happened? What if I'd told her I loved her this morning as she stepped out for a walk? What if I'd made love to her last night? What if… there were so many of them. She'd still be here if I'd done just one of them.

*****25****th**** September 2009**

The fact that the coffin held her body shocked me. It shouldn't have hurt, but being this close and not being able to touch her one last time was pounding on my chest with my frantic heartbeat as Alice spoke about her big sister, tears filling her eyes as she told of the happy times, ignoring the bad times like they never happened. And then Renee was there, speaking of her daughter, her scattered brain, somehow fixed and held in place by her grief. She was so different, so heartbreaking to look at.

But I think I looked the most pitiful, because my eyes were fixed on the coffin, willing them to burn a hole inside so I could see her, no matter what state she was in, I wanted to see her. My fingers itched to brush the cool wood, the colour matching the memory of her eyes so brilliantly. That's all it was after this moment, the last thing I'd have. Memories and photographs. I could never touch her, hold her, make love to her again. I would never kiss her again. Never brush my hand across her cheek to wipe away the tears. So many never evers, so many what ifs, regrets, guilt washing through my mind like the tears cleansing my soul and scratching at my face as if they were poison. The pulse in my body felt like a traitor, like it shouldn't still be beating after Bella's had stopped.

I firmly believed that when hers stopped beating mine would too.

Everything just felt so strange and ethereal, like this was a dream that was meant to happen to someone else, not me. Not her.

I wish I was there to take her last breath.

I wanted to hold her, one last time.

**A/N: Thanks for reading, tell me what you think?**


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